Page 56 of Every Now and Then
Thanks, Hayes.
Me
You have nothing to thank me for, Yankee. I want to be there for you.
Annabelle usually finishes getting the girls down around 8:00. As soon as the clock on my phone hits the magic number, I shoot off the couch in Rowdy’s man cave and say goodbye to the guys. I really couldn’t care less about the basketball game. I’m just eager to call Annabelle.
As soon as I put my truck into drive, I call her, and she answers on the first ring. Her voice, soft as velvet, oozes through the speakers. “Hi Hayes.”
“How are you? What’s going on?”
She sighs. “The same old bullshit. I’m just… tired. Worn down.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, not really. I feel like I’m caving under the pressure of everything right now. Keeping the house spick and span for house showings. Trying to find a new place for us to live. The girls have been more emotional than normal. Probably because Christmas is next week…”
“I’m guessing the holidays are hard without Kyle.”
“Yeah. The girls seem to feel his absence more deeply at the big events, like Christmas.”
“But you don’t?”
“No. For me, grief is sneakier. I expect grief on holidays, so I can mentally prepare myself,” she says, letting out a sad sigh. “But it’s the little things that become emotional landmines, like realizing I added Kyle’s favorite cookies to the grocery cart or hearing a certain song on the radio. It’s the mundane things that have the power to send me into a tailspin.”
“Oh, Annabelle. I’m sorry.”
She backtracks, issuing an apology. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this stuff.”
“That’s where you’re fucking wrong, Yankee. I’m here for you. All of you. The polished, perfect version of you, sure, but most importantly, the messy bits, the sharp edges, the parts of yourself you keep hidden. That’s the real you, and that’s the Annabelle I want to know.” Pausing, I exhale. “I know a thing or two about grief, having lost my mom a few years back. Now, I’m not comparing losing a spouse to losing a parent, because they’re different losses. But I understand the importance of not diminishing your pain and holding space for your grief. You lost someone important to you, and that isn’t a pain that can be tucked away and forgotten.”
After losing my mom, I thought I could move past it, but it fucking hurt. She was my only blood relative, and when she died, the loneliness hit harder than I ever imagined. The band has always been a dysfunctional family, like brothers to me, but even they couldn't quiet the isolation. It had always been my mom and me against the world, and suddenly, I was on that island alone. As I told Annabelle, that's a loss that can't be ignored. It's a visceral feeling that doesn't disappear. You just learn how to carry it with you.
But with the help of friends, I leaned on them and waded through the grief until the fog lifted.
Flicking on my blinker, the rhythmic click-click-click is the only sound that fills the cab of the truck for a few moments until I hear Annabelle’s jagged inhalation.
“Let it out, baby. You need to be strong for Grace and Claire, but not for me. Let me be strong for you,” I insist quietly. And when I hear her muffled sobs, I make a U-turn at the next intersection, speeding toward Brentwood instead of downtown.
When was the last time someone was strong for her?
About fifteen minutes later, I pull up at her house. “Hey, open up. I'm out front.”
Startled, Annabelle blurts out, “What? But I look horrible! I’ve been crying the entire time we’ve been on the phone, Hayes.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you look like, Yankee. I don’t want your forced smiles and fake assurances that you’re fine. I want to hold you, to see with my own eyes that you're okay. And if you're not, then I want to be the one to carry you until you're strong enough to stand on your own again. I'm here for you, Annabelle. For all of you.”
“Even for the messy bits,” she mutters, repeating what I said earlier.
“Especially those bits.”
“And here I thought you preferred my lady bits.”
I smile. “I can’t deny that I enjoyed your lady bits, but that’s not what this is about tonight, Annabelle. And I won’t let you deflect. Now open the goddamn door.”
As soon as her front door cracks open, I push inside and fold her into my arms, stroking the back of her head. The longer I hold her, the more she sinks into my embrace, until she's completely collapsed and I'm propping her up.
“How did you know I needed you?” She whispers, her voice muffled against my chest.
